


A Little Less Lonely

by pikablob



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Autistic Hilda (Hilda), Autistic Victoria Van Gale, Families of Choice, Gen, Half A Scoop Of Hurt - Heavy On The Comfort, Minor car accidents, Nightmares, Storm Chasing, Victoria Van Gale Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28161174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikablob/pseuds/pikablob
Summary: When her plan to research a violent storm goes wrong, Victoria Van Gale ends up trapped deep in the wilderness. She finds shelter, and perhaps a kindred spirit, in a lonely cabin with a young blue-haired girl.
Relationships: Hilda & Twig (Hilda), Johanna | Hilda's Mum & Hilda (Hilda), Johanna | Hilda's Mum & Victoria Van Gale, Victoria Van Gale & Hilda (Hilda)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	1. The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended Songs: [Hey Mister (Victoria's Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QRR3Hyp15o), [Dirty Paws (Hilda's Theme)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCHUw7ACS8o)

In all her years running the Greater Trolberg Meteorological Bureau, Victoria Van Gale had never seen a storm like this. It was chaos; a deluge of snow, whipped up by gale-force winds, was rapidly burying the city. It had choked the streets, frozen hard on the roads, and dragged visibility down to near zero, forcing her to issue the strongest blizzard warnings her position allowed and force everyone to stay home.

But, of course, Victoria couldn’t follow her own advice. Because she knew there was only one thing that could create such a violent weather system, especially on such a short timescale; somewhere far above, about eight miles into the wilderness by her radar scans, an argument between weather spirits had devolved into a brawl. And as a researcher of the supernatural, Victoria just had to study it.

So she had thrown every piece of measuring equipment she could dig out into her old utility truck, pulled on her heaviest winter coat, shuttered the weather station, and was now racing out of Trolberg in pursuit of the storm. Strictly she should have stayed at her post, but her duties to the city were the least of her priorities in the face of the discoveries she was sure she would soon make. Besides, it wasn’t like she could send more radio messages out in this weather.

The road was little more than a pale grey streak in a sea of white, and beyond a few metres everything gave way to a grey haze. Still she gunned it on, high-beams flashing off glittering snow and treacherous ice. Distantly she heard a rumble, what would normally have been the deafening crack and blinding flash of lightning turned to low sound and a brief glow above by the choking haze.

As she rounded a bend, she saw lights flashing through the snow, headlight and torch-beams cutting glowing trails towards her. She hit the brakes, the truck slipping and sliding on the icy road. In her own lights she saw crash barriers and parked cars, the silhouettes of people standing between them. One of them waved as she skidded to a stop, right in front of the barriers.

Peering through the windscreen she could see multiple Safety Patrol officers in full winter gear, flashlight-rifles at the ready to drive back the haze. They had half of the road cordoned off, cars parked in a semicircle with headlights facing out to warn oncoming traffic. Craning her neck, she could just see what they were protecting; on the far side of the road was a badly wrecked car.

It was on its side, windows and lights smashed. The rear axle hung loose from its mounts, swaying slightly in the storm-winds. It looked recent, only a thin blanket of snow covering the battered yellow metal. But there was no sign of any medical personnel, no ambulances amid the Patrol cars. Had the injured, or worse, already been taken away?

A thump on her driver’s side window snapped Victoria’s attention away. She turned to see the Patrol officer that had flagged her down standing right at the truck’s door, a grim expression on his face. He gestured impatiently, clearly eager to talk to her, and with a frustrated sigh she cracked the window just enough for him to speak through.

“Where are you going, ma’am?” he asked bluntly. “All non-essential travel is suspended due to the storm. You’ll have to turn back.” He gestured wide, as if he thought she couldn’t already see how bad things were.

“I’m with the Greater Trolberg Meteorological Bureau,” she hurriedly insisted. “I need to get closer to that storm; studying a weather event like this is the only way to ensure we can keep people safe from it.” The officer paused, scratching his chin.

“May I see some ID, ma’am?”

“Oh fine,” she couldn’t help muttering, reaching under her overcoat to find her ID card clipped to her lab coat beneath. She pulled it free, holding it up to the window so the man could see. He let out a hum, eyes narrowing for a moment before he finally seemed to acquiesce.

“Very well,” he said, somewhat reluctantly, “but please, take care out there, ma’am.” There was suddenly a twinge in his voice; he glanced over his shoulder, towards the wrecked car. “The roads are very dangerous in this weather.”

“Thank you,” she said briskly, not even waiting for him to fully step back before putting her foot down. The truck’s engine roared, and with a screech she pulled away. She glanced back over the instruments littering her dashboard, then turned her gaze firmly to the road as the wreck passed by. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of what could go wrong.

She could see her readings spiking as she closed the distance; the eye of the storm was only four miles away, then only three, then two. She could see the wind picking up, the snow turning to flurries around her. She was almost there.

“Come on, come on,” she found herself muttering. Her grip on the wheel tightened, anticipation buzzing. She peered out through the windscreen, past her frantic wipers, trying to catch any glimpse of her target. And then the road went out from under her.

She didn’t even have time to realise she had missed a turn. The truck bounced roughly, lurching forwards as snowy soil replaced asphalt. She slammed on the brakes, leaning back hard into her chair, but it was too little too late. The truck ploughed on, wheels skidding on the ice, down a verge at alarming speed.

It came to a stop with a crunch, throwing her hard against the steering wheel. She sat up quickly, hissing in pain and rubbing at her temple, and slowly the pain dulled to a low throb.

Only then did she take stock of her situation. In front of her the windscreen was covered in snow, a forest of cracks spreading from the centre. All of the readouts bolted to her dashboard were dead; no doubt the delicate equipment in the back that fed them data had all been smashed to bits, she thought dryly. The truck’s engine still spluttered, not yet dead, but putting her foot down did nothing besides make it rattle louder.

The whole thing was still tilting forwards. Slowly she stood up, opening the door and stumbling out into the snow. She nearly fell over when her boots plunged straight into it, two feet deep, but she managed to steady herself by grabbing onto the door.

From outside it was clear what had happened. She had ploughed right off the road, down an embankment, and ended up burying the front of her truck deep into a snowdrift in the gully below. The thing was clearly well-stuck, not going anywhere without a crane most likely. Any hopes of chasing the weather spirits had been completely dashed, she realised. Which left Victoria with a daunting prospect; how was she supposed to get help now?

She had an emergency radio, at least. Carefully she leaned back into the truck, reaching across to the glove compartment and pulling it open. A moment of rummaging produced a large walkie-talkie with an extendable antenna, bashed around a bit but still functional. The only problem would be getting signal, especially in this weather. If her station transmitter couldn’t get through it, what hope did a little portable one have?

Ruling out the idea with a frustrated sigh, she slipped the radio into an inner pocket and looked back up at the road. It couldn’t be that far back to the Safety Patrol, she reasoned; if she could somehow climb back up the embankment, she could probably make it back to them. Exposure wasn’t an immediate concern at least, not with all her winter gear.

A sudden, very much animal noise snapped her attention away. She jumped, a strangled sound of surprise escaping her throat. Turning revealed the source; standing by the front of the truck, light enough that it only sank up to its chest in the snow, was a small white creature.

It was a tiny four-legged thing, with short fur and beady black eyes. Two small horns poked out from the top of its head, little more than numbs of black keratin. It was eyeing her strangely; she got the inexplicable sense it wanted her to do something.

“Ummm, hello?” she offered gingerly; interacting with wildlife had never been her strong point. She enjoyed studying them, sure, but she knew how unpredictable these things could be. The creature let out a strange yelp, turning away from her and into the storm. It gave a little nod, almost as if to say, _“follow me”_.

“Do you want me to follow you?” She raised an eyebrow. It repeated the gesture, taking a slow step in the direction it wanted to go. It was now undeniable; this strangely intelligent forest animal wanted her to go with it.

With a sigh, Victoria looked back up at the road. The climb seemed to grow longer and more daunting the more she stared at it, so she shook her head and looked back at the animal. It let out an impatient bark, then started trotting away.

“Alright, alright,” she acquiesced, shutting the truck door and trudging off after it. This creature didn’t seem to be a predator, she reasoned, and it had to have some kind of shelter from the storm.

After a few moments the truck disappeared behind her; she could already see her footprints disappearing, leaving her no other option than to keep following her new companion. Part of her wondered if she had finally gone mad, enough to entrust her fate to an animal, but it was too late for second thoughts.

It led on, until finally she saw lights glowing through the blinding snow. She couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief; the glow was wider and fainter than those of the Safety Patrol, but it was definitely there. Her companion made a beeline for it, and as she followed she could make out the source: a small wooden cabin, welcoming light spilling out of square windows.

The animal definitely knew the place. It darted up to the door and started scrabbling, scratching frantically. Victoria stepped up behind it, ready to knock, but the door swung open before she could.

Standing in the doorway, haloed in the orange light, was a young girl. The top of her head was below Victoria’s knees; her hair was blue, pulled into twin pigtails and topped with a black beret. She wore a thick brown sweater several sizes too large, the sleeves swallowing her hands completely, and a red scarf wrapped around her neck. A look of relief decorated her pale, round face the moment she saw the creature on her doorstep.

“Twig!” She opened her arms and the animal leapt into them, snuggling up against her front. “You can’t run off like that, okay? Especially when mum’s not here.” Victoria cleared her throat; the child’s gaze snapped up, eyes going wide as she took in the strange woman in her doorway. “Wait, who are you?”


	2. The Cabin

“My name is Victoria Van Gale,” Victoria introduced, meeting the small girl’s uncertain gaze. She did her best to seem non-threatening; it had been a long time since she had interacted with any children, and the ones on tour groups tended to be a lot older anyway, so she felt rather out of her depth. “You might’ve heard my weather broadcasts; they go out all over the Greater Trolberg Area.”

“Nope, sorry.” The girl shook her head. “We don’t listen to radio from the city.” Her mouth twisted up into a small smile, and she took a step back from the door, her apparent pet scampering after. “I’m Hilda, by the way, and this is Twig. You can come in if you want.”

“Thank you.” Victoria tried not to sound as frustrated as she felt. She stepped in after Hilda, letting the door swing shut behind her. Immediately she felt the warmth of the cottage wash over her, a welcome break from the biting chill of the storm outside. She didn’t bother asking before shrugging off her overcoat, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor by the door.

Inside the cabin was small and cozy, with thick multicoloured rugs covering a traditional wooden floor. A small dining table sat by the door, in front of a large yellow sofa; beyond that Victoria could see a fireplace on the far wall, and a drawing table pushed up against the side of the staircase. The fire was going, casting the welcoming glow she had seen from outside.

“What were you doing out there?” Hilda broke the silence; looking down, Victoria could see curious interest twinkling in her dark eyes.

“Chasing the storm, of course,” the woman said with a flourish, feeling the embers of her enthusiasm kindled. “As a meteorologist, it’s my job to research and monitor all sorts of weather events, and this storm presented a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

She couldn’t help the smile dropping from her face, the sting of how close she had gotten rearing its ugly head. “Unfortunately, the storm ran me right off the road and into a ditch, so now I’m stuck out here. I was hoping to find some help, actually; are your parents around?”

Hilda shifted a little at that, hands reaching out from her too-long sleeves to clasp in front of her. She looked down, her gaze falling on Twig. He snuggled up against her leg, letting out a reassuring yelping sound.

“No,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “Mum went out a while ago; she said she just had to get some things from town, and she wouldn’t be long, but that was before the storm came in.”

There was clear worry in her voice, and Victoria felt something twinge somewhere deep inside. She could only hope the girl’s mother was just trapped in Trolberg, and hadn’t made it onto the road before the weather turned. The image of the wreck she had passed lingered in her mind, an uncomfortable reminder of how dangerous it was out there.

“Did you try calling her?” she asked. Hilda frowned, gaze snapping up and cheeks puffing out.

“Mum said only to call if I was in trouble,” she said firmly, only to let out a quiet sigh, shifting back again to her worried demeanour. “I did try,” she admitted, “eventually, once the storm got really bad. But the phone’s not working.”

Of course, Victoria thought; a storm this powerful would have knocked out the phone lines across the entire region. The more cynical part of her noted that scuppered any chance of getting help promptly, but that part was quickly overridden by an unfamiliar feeling of responsibility.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” she said quickly, putting on her best reassuring smile. “All non-essential travel’s currently suspended, so your mum’s probably just being held up by the Safety Patrol until they think it’s safe.”

“What’s a safety patrol?” Hilda asked innocently. Victoria blinked, the realisation setting in that the girl probably knew absolutely nothing about how the city worked.

“Well, they’re a team of people organised by the city council,” she explained, stepping around Hilda and towards the sofa. “Their job is to protect the people of Trolberg from all the beasts and spirits of the wilderness.”

“People from the city need protecting?” Hilda raised an eyebrow; if nothing else, she seemed distracted, and internally Victoria felt a strange relief. “The creatures out here aren’t dangerous, if you know what to do,” the girl went on, “even trolls; they can’t do anything at daytime. I don’t see why you’d need a whole safety patrol to tell you that.”

Victoria couldn’t help agreeing with the girl’s words. She smiled, feeling a strange warmth at the thought that Hilda might be a kindred spirit.

“Oh, I agree, of course,” she said, a smile overtaking her face. “But most people can’t be bothered to read up on the world. They just want to hide away behind their walls and go about their days completely unaware of all the amazing things just outside.”

“That sounds really boring.” Hilda stifled a chuckle, a small but genuine smile on her face. “I’d never, ever want to live like that.” She paused, a thought seemingly coming over her. “Wait, if you’re a metor-, meteori-”

“Meteorologist,” Victoria corrected fondly.

“Right, and you care about the wilderness, then you must know all kinds of amazing things!” She beamed, throwing her hands up in excitement, sleeves flopping down. “About weather spirits, or the woffs, or why the birds migrate, right?” Her enthusiasm was infectious; if there was one thing Victoria loved, it was an eager learner. She felt an idea beginning to form in her head.

“Well, I do know quite a lot,” she said with a smile, stepping over to the couch, “if I do say so myself, though some of it is quite advanced. But, since it seems I’m stuck here for the time being, how about I tell you some of it, eh? Keep ourselves busy until your mum gets back?”

She sat down on the sofa, patting the cushion beside her. Hilda practically ran over, sleeve-covered hands flapping with excitement. She jumped up onto the sofa, eyes so wide Victoria was sure she could see stars in them. Twig followed, leaping up to sit on the girl’s lap even as her legs swung vigorously back and forth.

“You’ve got to tell me everything,” she insisted, leaning over. Victoria couldn’t help feeling a swelling of warmth at that, her situation all but forgotten; this definitely wasn’t how she had planned to spend this evening, but she found she didn’t mind.

“So,” she began, “most of the weather you see is just the natural processes of our planet; the sun, the rain, and all that. But when things get really interesting is when the weather spirits show up. They’re the only ones with the power to control the weather, and what happens when they do is rather interesting.”

“Is this storm caused by spirits, then?” Hilda asked, enraptured.

“I’m afraid so,” Victoria explained. “Weather spirits just love a good argument, especially the stormy ones. When two of them meet they can spend hours upon hours debating, wreaking havoc on everything below, and that’s only with a pair. With more it gets even worse, but I don’t think that’s what we’re dealing with tonight.”

“Then, what is it?” Hilda asked cautiously; she was no longer smiling, trying with little success to suppress a shiver, and Victoria felt an unwelcome pang of guilt at the thought she was scaring the child.

“The only thing that can cause a storm this bad is when they fight,” she said quietly. “But I wouldn’t worry, they only care about each other, not us, and when it’s this bad it won’t be long before whoever started the fight gets driven off.”

“So, we’re safe?”

“I’d say so,” she assured, “and so, I’d wager, is your mum. A battle like this shouldn’t last much past morning.” That was optimistic and she knew it; there was no telling how long before one side won in the heavens above. But seeing Hilda upset made her feel uncomfortably guilty, so she said it all the same.

“Okay,” Hilda said quietly. Unable to stop herself, Victoria reached out, placing one hand on the girl’s shoulder; maybe she was crossing some boundary, but right now all she could think was Hilda was afraid and it was her fault and her job to fix it. Hilda leaned into the touch, relaxing a little, even as Twig eyed Victoria with what she was sure was suspicion.

“Why don’t I tell you about the other classes of weather spirits?” she suggested. Hilda nodded, a small smile returning to her face.

“What’s your favourite?” she asked. “I bet it’s a really cool one, right?”

“You could say that,” Victoria chuckled, glad for the lightening of the mood. “Personally, I’ve always had a soft spot for the noctilucent spirits. They travel high in the atmosphere, generating glittering trails of tiny ice crystals that can only be seen under very specific astronomical lighting conditions. I don’t believe they’re capable of creating precipitation, let alone storms.”

“Woah,” Hilda breathed, eyes widening again, “I bet they’re really pretty. When you can see them, of course.”

“That they are,” Victoria said fondly, “and they aren’t the only ones.”

“Ooh, tell me!” Hilda beamed, hands flapping again. And so, Victoria did; she began rattling off her favourite details about the weather spirits. She found herself talking about the magnificent clouds that had first inspired her to become a scientist, about a myriad of different types of spirit, and then on to other topics.

Soon she was telling Hilda everything she knew, from how their migrations formed the wind channels that the woffs and birds followed, to how to tell their mood from the colour of the clouds. It was refreshing, being able to talk to a willing audience who actually cared, even when that audience was a young child and her strange woodland pet.

But eventually, of course, it had to come to an end. As she wrapped up a detailed description of why the annual Great Bird Migration was so destructive, she looked over to see Hilda had slumped back against the sofa, Twig curled contentedly in her lap.

The girl’s eyes fluttered closed, a small, happy smile settling on her face, and Victoria felt a growing warmth at the sight. It didn’t even matter to her that Hilda had missed her final lecture, or that she was still stranded in someone else’s home, or that all her research plans had gone to waste; she couldn’t help feeling content regardless.


	3. The Nightmare

Victoria wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but when she stirred awake it was dark. For a moment she didn’t remember where she was, and panic began to set in before the afternoon’s events came back to her.

She was still on the end of Hilda’s sofa, a crick in her back from sleeping sitting down. The entire room was dark, the fire having burned through its remaining fuel, leaving the once-welcoming living room feeling cold and empty. A glance showed Hilda was still fast asleep, curled up on the sofa cushions, Twig likewise curled beside her.

Victoria stood up as slowly and quietly as she could, not wanting to wake Hilda but eager to stretch. She arched her back, feeling her spine crackle, and let out a satisfied sigh. That was the worst of the weird feelings dealt with, but still she couldn’t help feeling there was something eerie about this place at night.

Maybe it was that she felt unwelcome, she reasoned, walking slowly away from the sofa. She didn’t like unfamiliar spaces on a good day, and that was when she wasn’t technically intruding. Or maybe it was just the cold; without the fire going she could feel the wintry chill from outside seeping in, and through the frosted windows she could just see more snow still falling.

Slowly she walked over to the nearest window, arms wrapping around herself involuntarily. As she approached the glass, she could see the snow wasn’t falling nearly as fast as it had been before, flakes drifting slowly to the ground instead of barraging from above in the driving wind. Maybe her reassurances to Hilda had been right after all, or maybe the spirits’ argument had just moved elsewhere, but either way things looked a lot better than they had.

The white blanket of snow seemed to stretch on forever, with the only breaks in it being occasional trees punching up through, their branches heavy with more of the stuff. Distantly she could just make out a square shape that might have been her truck, still resting where it had fallen, but it was too dark and too distant to tell.

How long had she been asleep? Victoria felt a pit of worry form somewhere in her stomach at the realisation that Hilda’s mother still wasn’t back. The hopeful part of her tried to reassure her that everything was fine, that the Safety Patrol were probably just being cautious and hadn’t reopened the roads yet. The more cynical part of her remembered the car wreck, and her own predicament.

She couldn’t help letting out a sigh; when had she gotten so attached? How had the tiny blue-haired child sleeping somewhere behind her wormed her way into Victoria’s heart? She definitely wasn’t the maternal type, she was certain about that, but at the same time she couldn’t deny she felt more than a little affection for the girl.

A quiet yelping sound cut through her introspection. She jumped, looking down to see Twig crouched at her feet. He was staring up at her with those beady eyes, a look very reminiscent of the one he’d given her out in the snow settling on his face.

“Don’t scare me like that,” she hissed. He tilted his head to one side. “What do you want?” Twig ignored her discomfort, glancing back towards the sofa and giving a now-familiar nod. He trotted briskly towards it, and with a frustrated sigh she followed after.

But as she crossed back through the cold room, a sound gave her pause. It sounded like whimpering, quiet sounds of distress emanating from the sofa, and suddenly Victoria felt a spike of concern as she realised there was only one possible source for the noise: Hilda. Was that what Twig wanted to show her?

She jogged the last few steps, rounding the sofa and peering down at the cushions. Hilda was still curled up tightly, but now her arms were up over her head, as if she was trying to protect herself from an attacker above. She was whimpering, and Victoria felt her stomach turn to ice at the sight of tears running down the girl’s face.

Twig leapt onto the bed, nuzzling her and yapping, but she was too deep in the nightmare to notice. He looked up at Victoria, uncertain trust in his eyes, and in an instant she understood what she had to do. She reached down, taking the child by the shoulder and giving her a firm shake.

“Aaaahh!” Hilda shot awake, jolting upright, arms flung up in terror. Her breaths came deep but shaky, her whole body jittering, and slowly her gaze turned up to Victoria. “Mum?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’m afraid it’s only me,” was all Victoria could think to say. She sat down slowly on the sofa, desperately hoping she didn’t look as out of her depth as she felt. She hadn’t the faintest idea how to care for a hurt child, but right now every reasonable part of her was screaming at her to help somehow.

“Victoria?” Hilda sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of one long sleeve. Victoria nodded.

Gingerly she raised an arm, offering the girl a half-hug; it was the only thing she could think to do. Hilda scooted over in an instant, pressing up tightly against the woman’s side, snuggling up against her only source of safety. Carefully Victoria lowered her arm again, gently embracing her in a way that she desperately hoped was comforting. Twig scampered over to join the embrace, gently starting to lick the tears from Hilda’s face.

“I don’t know what you dreamt about,” Victoria said quietly, trying to keep the uncertainty from her voice, “but I can say it was only a dream. You’ve no need to fear; it’s not real.” She knew by Hilda’s reaction she’d said the wrong thing; the girl sniffled loudly, shifting in her embrace.

“B-but they are real,” she protested, swallowing, “you told me about the weather spirits yourself. I saw them fighting, as the storm was destroying everything, and mum was there. It kept getting worse, and she was… I couldn’t…” she trailed off, unable to stop more tears from overwhelming her.

That gave Victoria pause, an uncomfortable realisation settling like ice somewhere deep in her gut. Of course Hilda’s nightmare would be about the weather spirits, between the storm outside and her worries about her mother; this was all Victoria’s fault. She felt an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sense of guilt settle somewhere in the back of her mind.

Hollow reassurances weren’t going to work, that much was clear. What Hilda needed was something concrete, something she could trust. Rapidly Victoria racked her brains, gently squeezing the girl to comfort her as she tried to think of what to say.

“I also told you that this storm is a once-in-a-lifetime event,” she settled on finally. “And if you look outside, you’ll see it’s almost over already. It takes a lot to make weather spirits angry enough to cause a storm like that.” Hilda sniffed loudly at that, looking up to peer out of the distant window. Twig followed, glancing back and forth between her and the outside.

“But what about mum?” she whispered.

“I’m afraid I can’t say with complete certainty,” Victoria admitted, choosing her words carefully, “but in all likelihood she’s still stuck in Trolberg. The Safety Patrol are very strict about these things.”

“They are?”

“Absolutely,” she said softly, “you should’ve seen the issue they took with me coming out here, and I’m with the Meteorological Bureau. So I know it isn’t easy, but do try not to worry; you’re quite safe with me, and I’m sure your mum is too.”

She gave Hilda another reassuring squeeze, feeling the tension leave the girl’s body. She wiped her eyes again, Twig gently mopping up the last of her tears, and let out and uncertain breath of relief. But she made no move to leave Victoria’s side, instead snuggling deeper against her lab coat.

“Do you mind if I sleep like this?” she asked quietly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her voice. “Normally I’d sleep with mum after a nightmare, but, well, she’s not here.”

Victoria wasn’t quite sure how she had managed to progress from stranger, to friend, to surrogate mother, but she couldn’t help feeling a swelling of protective warmth at the thought. Looking down, she knew there was very little she wouldn’t be willing to do for the girl in her arms. If that included playing mum until morning came then so be it.

“Of course it’s alright,” she said fondly, tightening the embrace for emphasis.

“Thanks.” Hilda replied softly, letting out a yawn. Slowly her eyelids closed, even as Twig curled up against her other side. Victoria could only smile at the sight, a mix of care and relief overcoming her. She felt her own eyelids growing heavy, and with one last glance down at Hilda she let sleep claim her too.


	4. The Dawn

The next time Victoria awoke, it was to sound. A loud knocking from somewhere behind her dragged her back into the waking world, back into Hilda’s living room. It was light; sunbeams streamed in through the windows, motes of dust hanging in their glow. A glance down showed Hilda still fast out in her arms, snoring quietly, Twig curled up just off to one side.

The knocking came again, loud and insistent. Someone was at the door, Victoria realised. But before she could act Hilda stirred, blinking the sleep from her eyes and yawning. The knocking continued, and the girl’s gaze drifted over to the source.

“I think we have a visitor,” Victoria noted. Inside she felt something creeping in her gut, the realisation setting in that this would either be the girl’s mother or some terrible news. Either way, Victoria knew she would probably have some explaining to do.

“I’ll get it!” Hilda’s eyes went wide. She leapt out of Victoria’s arms, her feet hitting the floorboards running. Her shout jolted Twig awake; he jumped, only to catch sight of her sprinting across the room and leap from the sofa in pursuit.

Victoria stood up, dusting herself down with her hands, just as Hilda leapt up and opened the door. It practically flew open, throwing a new wave of sunlight into the room, revealing a young woman silhouetted just outside the threshold.

She had neat brown hair, falling just below her shoulders at the back, and a face that, to Victoria, looked a lot like a longer version of Hilda’s. She had a long yellow coat and a beanie on, over a black jumper and beige trousers. Behind her stood two officers in full Safety Patrol uniform, carrying large snow shovels.

“Hilda!” The woman reached down, grabbing her daughter and pulling her up into a tight hug. The girl nestled into the crook of her neck, a smile of relief on her face. Her woman glanced over her shoulder, back at the two Patrol officers. “That’ll be all, thank you.”

She stepped inside as the pair nodded and awkwardly shuffled away, carrying Hilda with her. “I’m sorry,” she continued, pushing the door shut with a foot, “I really did mean to only be gone an hour or two. But then the storm came in and they wouldn’t let me leave until it cleared; it didn’t matter what I told them. Even now they insisted on sending those two out with me.”

“It’s alright mum,” Hilda said softly, but her mother went on.

“You must’ve been terrified,” she said, voice heavy with concern, “stuck here all alone in that weather.” She didn’t seem to have noticed Victoria, her daughter taking all of her attention.

“I wasn’t alone,” Hilda protested happily. “I had Twig, and Victoria.” Her mother froze, one eyebrow raising.

“Wait, who’s Victoria?”

Victoria cleared her throat, stepping around the sofa and into full view. Immediately she felt the woman’s gaze harden as it passed over her, mistrust replacing the relief on her face. Victoria suddenly had no idea what to say; she felt very much like an intruder, hands clasping together as her nerves spiked.

“Oh, erm, hello?” she said gingerly, trying and failing to force herself to make eye contact. “My name is Victoria Van Gale.”

“Wait, from the weather broadcast?” Hilda’s mother asked, surprise overtaking her face. At least someone in this house recognised her, Victoria thought. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Well, I was trying to run some experiments on the storm,” Victoria admitted, “but I slid right off the road on the ice. You might’ve seen my truck somewhere up the road?” She saw a flash of recognition cross the younger woman’s face. “Your pet found me out in the snow, believe it or not, and led me back here.”

“It was really cool!” Hilda interrupted, throwing her hands up in excitement. “She’s a meteor… olo… gist?”

“Yes.” Victoria couldn’t help feeling a little wayward pride at that.

“And she knows all about the weather spirits! She told me so many amazing things,” Hilda continued, giving Victoria a wink. Her mother broke into a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“That does sound interesting,” she acquiesced. “I know; why don’t I make us some tea? Miss Van Gale can come and help me; then she can tell me all about it.”

“Alright,” Hilda said happily. Gently her mother lowered her down, plopping her little boots back onto the nearest rug. She turned towards a door in the far wall and started walking, gesturing for Victoria to follow.

The older woman did, despite the fresh uncertainty bubbling in her gut. Part of her was sure she was going to get an earful; why else would Hilda’s mother want to do this out of earshot? So it was with some trepidation that she followed the younger woman out of the living room, through the narrow door, and into a cramped and cozy kitchen. Hilda gave her a smile as she went, but it was a small comfort.

“Close the door, would you?” her mother instructed, turning around to grab a small kettle off the grey countertop. Victoria obliged while the younger woman held it under the sink tap, letting water run down through the spout. Finally, she turned back to meet Victoria’s gaze. But there was no judgement in her eyes, no hostility, just a mixture of quiet relief and guilt.

“Thank you for looking after her,” she said, letting out a long sigh as she put the kettle on to boil. “I hope Hilda didn’t give you any trouble. I was just so worried about her; she’s never been on her own for anything like this long before. I’ve been letting her and Twig explore around here without me recently, but never at night and never like this.”

She was clearly distressed; to Victoria it sounded like she was blaming herself for not being home.

“Oh, it was nothing, really,” she said with a flourish. “I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself, if I was you; that storm outmanoeuvred even me, an expert in the field!” That seemed to work, some of the distress leaving the younger woman’s face. “Your daughter really is quite something,” she went on. “I don’t think I’ve met another child with such an aptitude for learning.”

The younger woman chuckled a little at that. “I suppose it’s almost like an adventure for her,” she noted. “We don’t exactly get many visitors out here, so having someone new to talk to is quite an event.” Victoria couldn’t help feeling a strange pang at that; she knew all too well how lonely being isolated like that could be.

There was a dinging sound from the kettle, announcing that the water was boiled. “Oh,” the younger woman said quickly, grabbing a teapot from one of the shelves, “I almost forgot; what kind of tea do you like?”

“Well, I tend to prefer coffee, actually,” Victoria admitted awkwardly, “but I will go for a spot of Darjeeling, if you have it, Miss…” she trailed off, realising for the first time that she had no idea what Hilda’s last name was.

“Please, call me Johanna,” the younger woman said, reaching into one of the kitchen’s many small cupboards. She pulled out a battered silver tin, emptying a small amount into the teapot, then set it back in its place.

Victoria watched quietly as she prepared the tea, pouring the water into the pot and letting it brew. The thing she noticed most about Johanna was her hands; there was a practiced care in their movements, routine etched into each step. It was something Victoria was very familiar with.

“After we’ve had tea, I’ll lend you my phone,” Johanna broke the silence, not looking up from the counter, “so you can call for help with your truck. I hope the Weather Bureau won’t mind that you’ve been away this long.” She set the teapot on a tray, joined by three mugs and a small jug of milk, a tea strainer balanced carefully on top of it.

“Oh, don’t you worry, it’ll be fine.” Victoria waved a hand dismissively. Technically she knew she should never have left her post to begin with. But, since the Meteorological Bureau in its entirety was just her, and the city council’s oversight of her work was cursory at best, she doubted there would be any repercussions.

“If you say so,” Johanna said, smiling. She picked up the tray, walking back across the tiny kitchen and out into the living room, Victoria following behind. Hilda jumped up the moment she saw them, hurrying over to the sofa with her hands flapping and practically leaping into her seat. Twig followed, sitting down on the rug at her feet.

Johanna smiled fondly, setting down the tray on the coffee table and then sitting beside her. Victoria sat down on the girl’s other side, right where she had been sleeping. She kept her distance a little, cautious of boundaries now that Johanna was here, but Hilda just reached out with one sleeve and pulled her into a hug. A glance showed she had done the same to her mother, and the woman was just smiling at her antics.

But Hilda wasn’t smiling. Victoria felt a fresh spike of worry as she took in the girl’s expression, brow furrowed and cheeks puffed out. A glance showed Johanna had noticed too; she opened her mouth to speak, but Hilda cut her off.

“You’re leaving soon,” she said quietly, “aren’t you?” It was obvious who she was talking to. Victoria frowned.

“I’m afraid the Greater Trolberg Area still needs its weather forecast,” she said quietly, wondering internally why that truth felt so hard to admit. After everything that had happened the night before, after the child had somehow found space in her heart, the thought of having to walk out of Hilda’s life again was almost too painful to consider. She was sure the weather station was going to feel a lot lonelier now.

But as she thought an idea settled in her mind, one so perfect she was surprised it hadn’t occurred to her before. She reached into her lab coat, rummaging for a moment until she her fingers found battered plastic. She pulled out the portable radio she had taken from the truck the night before, holding it up so Hilda and her mother could see.

“But that doesn’t mean we never have to talk again,” she said with a smile. “This is a high-frequency two-way radio; it should be able to pick up my broadcasts even all the way out here. And, since the weather station has highly sensitive receiver equipment-”

“It can talk to you, too?” Hilda cut her off, eyes going wide.

“Exactly,” Victoria replied. “I want you to have it; just keep it tuned to six-hundred-forty kilohertz, and we’ll never have to be out of touch.” Gently she passed the thing into Hilda’s waiting hands; the girl took it carefully, letting out a small gasp as she eyed it.

Victoria couldn’t help glancing up, half-expecting Johanna to object. But the younger woman just smiled, something almost grateful in her eyes.

“That’s wonderful,” she said fondly. Hilda nodded, and suddenly Victoria felt tiny arms wrapping tightly around her.

“Thank you!” the girl blurted out, a giggle of pure joy bubbling up from somewhere inside. And Victoria felt that strange comforting warmth rising up again. Gently she reached down, loosely wrapping one arm over the girl’s back.

She got the indescribable sense that she was in the middle of something huge, that her life from this moment on would never quite be the same. Maybe it was all the unfamiliar feelings the night had thrown at her, or the extreme situation of the storm, or just how easy she found it to care about Hilda, but she was sure things were going to be a little less lonely for both of them from now on.


	5. The Package (Epilogue)

Two weeks after the storm, Hilda and Johanna came home to find a battered cardboard box waiting on their doorstep. It was old, taped up haphazardly, with their address scribbled onto the bare cardboard and no information about the sender anywhere.

But Johanna knew who had sent it the moment she saw the note stapled to the top. The handwriting was little more than large chicken-scratch, the permanent marker it was written in bleeding through the paper and leaving ugly splotches, but it made her smile anyway:

**_For a budding adventurer (and her mother)._ **

Inside was a myriad of gifts; a full fresh tin of Darjeeling tea; two packets of instant coffee; an entire pack of the strange, hard to find batteries Hilda’s portable radio used; topological and meteorological maps of the Greater Trolberg Area; a keyring in the shape of a cloud, bisected by a lightning bolt; a giant pencil that Hilda took to immediately; and two books.

One was a guide to urban spirits, the other a well-worn copy of _The Basics Of Hyperspatial Spirit Dynamics_ by ‘S. Pines’, ‘F. McGucket’, ‘A. Timmens’, ‘A. Hughes’, and, Johanna noticed with an eye roll, ‘V. Van Gale’. Hilda snapped them both up, eager for any new knowledge.

Underneath it all was a letter, marked in the same bad handwriting as the note on the box, labelled ‘for Johanna’. She waited a while to read it, until Hilda was fully engrossed in her new books, Twig sitting at her side as she flipped through pages on beasts and spirits she had never heard of.

 _Johanna,_ the note began, _I apologise if this is too forward, but I felt I ought to give something to thank you and Hilda. Every day now I find myself looking forwards to our next conversation; if I’m completely honest, it’s made me realise just how lonely it was up here before the storm._

_I’ve included a few things I think you’ll both appreciate; since Hilda seems to know all about the creatures of the wilderness, I assumed the creatures of the city would interest her too. There are plenty of fascinating things in Trolberg if you know where to look._

_I must admit the other book is probably a little advanced for her; it was a project between me and a few friends some years ago, but it does have some interesting information on Nowhere Space and the domains of dream spirits. I’ve included some notes in the back, which should help if she gets confused. That, and I’m always on call with an explanation._

Johanna couldn’t help smiling at that; Victoria really had thought of everything, it seemed.

 _Anyway, I’m rambling,_ the note continued. _I hope you appreciate the gifts, and it would be lovely to see you again. If you and Hilda are ever in Trolberg, feel free to visit me at the observatory. I’d love to give you both the grand tour._

_Yours,_

_Victoria_

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to [blagzdeath](https://blagzdeath.tumblr.com/) for creating this amazing art for this fic!!


End file.
